Collateral Reload
by Lancelotte
Summary: The night after Vincents reign of terror


**Collateral: Reload**

Vincent opened his eyes.

The doctor's "office" was a dark, grimy and sullen looking place. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom Vincent made out the shadowy form of Dr. Ericsson slouched on a chair in the corner. Looking around he saw dusty bookshelves laden down with mouldy books, an overflowing sink stacked high with dirty dishes and rusty tools, and an old tile floor scuffed and marked with blood, shit and God knows what else. Suffice to say, the smell was astounding, the air conditioner must be out, he thought to himself. Reaching down to his ribs he felt around the bullet hole tenderly, jerking his hands back instinctively when he inadvertently pressed a little too hard. Eyes watering, Vincent took a closer look, groaning as he tried to sit up. It was a good hit, fortunately Max had no idea what a fatal wound looked like, and if he had Vincent would be in a holding cell or worse right now.

How could he have been so stupid? He had underestimated Max simply because he was a cab driver... surely there was more to it than that?... Max had been a coward, a lowly, coward. No better, no different than the seething masses of L.A. cattle moving along with the rest of the herd. Following the daily routine of their meaningless and empty lives... but Max had shot him... twice. Max had stolen his briefcase, and with a gun pointed at his head...thrown it into the highway. Max had crashed the car, with both of them in it... Max, had _changed_. Overnight. In a matter of hours.

In his own way, Vincent had to grudgingly respect Max. In a few hours, a well conceived plan had turned to shit... speaking of which, four out of five scheduled hits. For the first time in his freelance career, Vincent had failed to meet his objective. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, Vincent would track and eliminate his remaining target the following night. But with a bullet hole in him he wasnt going to be tracking shit... not for a while at least. Which meant that Felix would be quickly tying up loose ends, and one of his men had made Vincent at the club, therein lay the rub... now they knew what he looked like. The only thing they had in common was Max, when they couldnt find Vincent, they would look to Max. Sighing, Vincent felt his mind begin to race, it was time to formulate an escape plan.

Leaning back onto his pillow, Vincent went over the previous night's events in his head for what had seemed the fiftieth time. How he had underestimated the cab driver he would never know, but that would never happen again. Closing his eyes and letting sleep take him, Vincent idly wondered what had happened to Anne Farrell, and Max Du Roche.

"He's a fucking killer! He killed 12 people in ONE night, including one of your own!" Agent Pedrosa roared. His rage so great, he nearly tripped over his cane.

"Yeah, I know" said Detective Weidner softly, "I saw Fanning's body, I saw what he did to him…"

"Look I didn't kill _anyone_ I was trying to stop him, he-he-he…" stammered Max, handcuffed to the steel railing in the interrogation room.

"Oh spare me! I _saw_ you at Club Fever, my _team_ saw you at Club Fever; you were made by a dozen Federal Agents Vincent! Pedrosa was a on a roll now, We have a subway car full of people who saw _you_ run on board an MTA train waving a gun, we have the gun with _your_ prints, a gun which _matches_ the slugs we pulled out of our federal witness, we can place you at every single scene. There is no evidence of this phantom killer... just you!"

Max Du Roche slumped in his chair not believing what he had just heard. How could this FBI asshole be so damned ignorant? And where was Annie? She was there, she could verify everything, she was with the Department of Justice, they had to believe her, didnt they?

Look, just ask Annie, she can confirm everything I just told you! My name is Max, Im just the damned cab driver! I told you, I picked this guy up and he said he was a real estate agent. He paid me six hundred bucks to cart him around L.A. for the night... he said he was visiting friends Max finished off quietly, the cops just werent listening anymore


End file.
